


collision moments

by ThanksForListening



Series: bedside manner [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I tagged it as relationship but it kinda isnt, Post-Promised Day, like it lowkey could be read that way but also i mention sig so..., so sorry for potentially being misleading but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:22:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThanksForListening/pseuds/ThanksForListening
Summary: "Olivier Armstrong prided herself on her refusal to give in to fear.It wasn’t that she was fearless. To never be afraid would take away the core of her humanity — even the Humunculi, it had been reported, seemed to hold some level of fear, if for nothing more than their own death. Unlike what she let so many men believe, she wasn’t void of the feeling: she simply knew how to handle it. She’d spent a lifetime refusing to allow it to transform into cowardice, to let it debilitate her. Survival depended on the ability to compartmentalize, to fight off paralysis long enough to eliminate the threat. In battle, she would never waver. She would never allow someone to see through her, to let her own feelings fan another’s spark of hesitation into a flame of weakness. She’d stand in front of them like the very wall they compared her to: unwavering and unbreakable.But compartmentalizing was only effective if there was some form of relief. So it was in the cover of night, when no one was there to follow her lead, that the cracks began to show."or, Olivier wakes up after the events of the Promised Day to an unexpected guest.
Relationships: Alex Louis Armstrong & Olivier Mira Armstrong, Olivier Mira Armstrong & Izumi Curtis, Olivier Mira Armstrong/Izumi Curtis
Series: bedside manner [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088576
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	collision moments

**Author's Note:**

> truthfully this is probably longer than it needs to be but that's only because im obsessed with this pairing and I want more content. I know i tagged it as relationship but that's mostly bc you could read their interactions that way or just as friendship, i couldn't make a decision but i also love sig so like he's still mentioned in there oops sorry for being indecisive.

Olivier Armstrong prided herself on her refusal to give in to fear. 

It wasn’t that she was fearless. To never be afraid would take away the core of her humanity — even the Humunculi, it had been reported, seemed to hold some level of fear, if for nothing more than their own death. Unlike what she let so many men believe, she wasn’t void of the feeling: she simply knew how to handle it. She’d spent a lifetime refusing to allow it to transform into cowardice, to let it debilitate her. Survival depended on the ability to compartmentalize, to fight off paralysis long enough to eliminate the threat. In battle, she would never waver. She would never allow someone to see through her, to let her own feelings fan another’s spark of hesitation into a flame of weakness. She’d stand in front of them like the very wall they compared her to: unwavering and unbreakable. 

But compartmentalizing was only effective if there was some form of relief. So it was in the cover of night, when no one was there to follow her lead, that the cracks began to show.

Tonight, she saw the beast. In her dreams it stood in front of her exactly as it had that morning, it’s eyes lifeless and it’s skin impenetrable. She’d beaten it before, but the variables had changed. Central City was too warm, too populated, its men unaccustomed to the survival instincts those at Briggs relied on. And there was Alex, fighting alongside her, and for all her complaints and her irritation, she couldn’t stop her heart from skipping beats with every blow he took. Especially when he took them for her. 

She watched her brother defeat it time after time, only for sparks to sew its artificial limbs back together. She could feel the blood dripping down her face, blurring her vision and painting the room red. The pain in her arm screamed, and it took more energy than she’d care to admit to ignore it. Alex held his own scars, blood decorating his face as well, and as it began to charge, a part of her thought that, at the very least, their deaths would be honorable. 

A fist of stone punched through the wall, through her thoughts of honor and sacrifice, and for a moment the end didn’t feel imminent anymore. The woman fought with grit, cracked a smile at the sight of the beast before them. As she pieced together her identity, she thought perhaps she was looking at the reason those brothers had lasted as long as they did, the reason they’d managed to hold their own alongside her men. The survivor mentality surrounded her, shined like the glow of the colors they sometimes saw in the northern sky, just defined enough to know it wasn’t a trick of the light.

In an instant, they were on the stairs. Olivier silently begged her mind to wake up, to leave before it happened again, because there was one moment that scared her beyond belief, more so than the monsters and the soldiers without souls, more so than dying alongside her brother in the heat of the city. 

Her brain refused to give her the relief of avoidance. Perhaps this was the cost, the price she’d have to pay for holding herself together when it happened. The eye appeared out of nowhere, opened up as if it was emerging from inside the earth. Izumi screamed as the hands pulled her apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left. In dreams she often saw reality in brutal slow motion, every misstep spotlighted so bright she couldn’t ignore it, but not tonight. Tonight, it blinked and took her as fast as it had in real time. 

The only way she could think to describe it was forbidden; no human should be able to witness what she saw and walk away with a sound mind. Olivier couldn’t tell if it swallowed her whole or simply snapped her out of existence. Worse than the sight of it was the feeling, Izumi’s hand in her own turning into nothing but air. Despite her strength and her unfailing grip, when it mattered most, she wasn’t strong enough to hold on. 

In the safety of her subconscious, she allowed herself to give in to the terror she’d buried. It pressed down on her chest like a weight she wasn’t strong enough to lift. Tears fell from her eyes and she let them, just this once, because she truly thought they’d all meet their ends, losing to something she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she'd held her a little tighter, if she hadn’t needed help in the first place, it could have all been avoided. She wouldn’t have had to listen to the desperation in Sig’s voice, to watch as he searched for someone that may no longer exist. The blame sat heavy on her shoulders, and she let it suffocate her. 

Olivier woke with a gasp. The first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes was the lights. The brightness rivaled the sun’s reflection on the snow, a sight that could cost a man their life in the North. She shut her eyes again, a groan slipping out before she could stop it.

“It’s about time you woke up.” Olivier felt the lights dim around her. She hesitantly opened her eyes again, turned her head and found Izumi sitting in a chair, mindlessly turning the pages of the book in her hands. 

A hundred questions sat on her lips, but she settled for the important one: “How long was I out?”

Izumi shrugged. “About a day, give or take.”

That couldn’t be right. She glanced out the window, saw the afternoon sun hanging in the sky, and it was exactly as she remembered but...but she hadn’t been inside. She’d been brought up from under the ground, she’d seen the youngest Elric brother stand in his own skin, and then...and then…

She tried to sit up, but her body screeched at the first hint of movement. Every bone throbbed, every muscle ached. Injury and pain had never been a stranger, but this rivalved her worst moments. Holding her breath, she gingerly settled back down. 

“You’ll want to take it easy,” Izumi told her. “Doctor said you took quite a nasty blow to the head. He wasn’t sure how you’d survived it, let alone the damage to the rest of you.”

Olivier scoffed. “Then he’s an idiot. It’ll take more than some falling stones and a beast as idiotic as that one to kill me.”

“Yes,” she said with a grin. “From what I’ve seen, I don’t doubt it.”

She turned her attention back toward the window. Her brain tried its best to think back to the fight, to the aftermath, but even trying to think made the pain so agonizing she was forced to shut her eyes again. Damn Bradley, and damn his fucking monsters with their sorry excuse for a life and their outright refusal to die.

“How—“ she asked in between labored breaths, “how did I get here?”

Izumi hesitated. “How much do you remember?”

Normally, she’d refuse to give up anything that could be used against her, especially to someone outside of Briggs. She was vulnerable here, confined to her bed, body broken and bruised and memory ridden with holes. Logic said to keep her mouth shut, but there was something about her. She may not have been one of her soldiers, but her gut told her that Izumi Curtis was someone she could trust. And her gut was never wrong. 

“I know about Alphonse. You carried us up to the surface just in time to see him stand. After that, there’s nothing.”

Izumi nodded. “At first, everybody celebrated. It was calm, even after everything that had happened. Al getting his body back...well, it was about as clear a victory as any.”

Olivier watched the way she smiled at the thought, the way her eyes held unshed tears. Truthfully, the boy getting his body back hadn’t been at the forefront of her concerns, but she’d hoped for their sake they’d accomplish it. And hearing her talk about it, about both of the Elric brothers, it became increasingly clear that despite her intensity and her ruthlessness, Izumi cared deeply for the two of them. 

“What happened next?”

Izumi laughed. “ _You_ happened next. You walked up and demanded someone take Al to a hospital, before his weakened body gave out on him.”

Oh. Well, she wasn’t wrong. The boy had been nothing but skin and bones, the textbook image of malnourished. She would bet that Edward might not have appreciated her interruption, but he’d come to understand her later. 

“And did they? Take him to the hospital?”

“Your brother did. Lifted him up and carried him there himself.”

“I assume he cried the whole time?”

“Like an infant.”

Olivier groaned. “My brother’s soft heart and hysterics will be the end of him one of these days.”

“You should have seen him in here earlier, blubbering over you.” She scoffed. “Men and their emotions. They just don’t know how to control themselves.”

She hummed in agreement. “It’s a disease if you ask me.”

Izumi nodded, before adding, “Although, perhaps it was better that he left when he did.”

“And why is that?”

“Once he carried Alphonse off the battleground, you began commanding all the people who were left. You coordinated trucks to take the injured to the hospital, communicated with the soldiers still out in the streets. It was impressive, until you gave your last order and promptly collapsed.”

If her arm hadn’t been bound to her chest, she would have curled both fists in frustration. A leader never showed weakness like that, not even after the battle came to an end. Her reputation would need patching, of that she was certain. 

If she noticed her embarrassment, Izumi didn’t comment on it; instead, she shrugged and said, “It could have been worse. Most of the soldiers had already dispersed. Plus, you didn’t hit the ground. Not sure your body could have taken another blow like that.”

Maybe it was the head injury, but she couldn’t fully comprehend the words she was hearing. “How is that possible? That I fell but never reached the ground?”

“Simple. I caught you.”

As if her humiliation couldn’t get any worse. The thought of being caught like an overwhelmed maiden made her want to take her sword and plunge it through her body herself, but instead she sighed and said, “I suppose I owe you an extra bit of gratitude, then.”

“Nonsense. I’m a housewife — I’m meant to take care of others.”

“You’re much more than that. The way you fought that beast was as impressive as any warrior I’ve seen.”

Izumi smiled. “I must admit, it felt nice to fight something that presented a challenge. And I’d been itching to let my alchemy loose ever since Hoenheim healed my ailment.” She laughed to herself as she said, “Vomiting blood would _not_ have been an impressive conclusion to a battle like that.”

Olivier raised her eyebrow. “Vomiting blood?”

“A consequence of my visit through the portal. Physical exertion like that used to leave me bedridden for days.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. The image of Izumi confined to a bed was almost as unimaginable as the one of her desperate enough to attempt human transmutation in the first place. She’d chalked up the Elric brother’s mistake to childhood idiocracy and arrogance, but she couldn’t fathom what would lead a woman like Izumi to do the same. 

“You’re wondering who it was,” Izumi said, her tone attempting neutrality and almost succeeding. “You’re wondering who I tried to bring back.”

“I understand if you want to keep that information to yourself. You don’t owe me any kind of explanation.”

“No, but I think I’ll give you one anyway.”

The answer surprised her. “Why?” 

“Because I’ve spent years forced to pretend it never happened. The attempt alone is enough to get me arrested, or worse. But ever since Ed and Al came back, ever since they figured it out...I’m not sure why, but it felt nice. Talking about it. Not trying to hide from it. I’d like to continue to do that, if I can.”

Had she been in a different place, a different time, she may have left it at that. Instead, her thoughts slipped through her mind’s weakened blockade, materialized right in front of her. “I know this topic is...delicate. For all his flaws, my brother is the one who knows how to provide comfort. If you’re looking for sensitivity, you won’t find it here.”

The words felt like a confession. She’d always been this way, cold and callous and short-tempered when it came to matters of the heart. It wasn’t that she couldn’t sympathize with anyone (although, in all honesty, she found many of the so-called problems people claimed to have were weak excuses for pain, and didn’t deserve her sympathy in the first place), but she had never known how to express the feelings properly. Her and her brother could be pinpointed on opposite sides of a spectrum, and while she’d choose her position over his a thousand times over, she could still admit that, outside of the battlefield and the barracks, her lack of emotional expression could be perceived as a shortcoming. 

“I’m not looking for someone to cry for me,” Izumi told her. “I’ve spent enough years crying for myself.”

“I don’t mean to be rude. But I don’t know what it is I have to offer you.”

“How about a captive audience?” She said the words with a smile, and despite the fact that Olivier could hear the lie in her voice, she decided not to call her out on it. 

Izumi put her book down beside her, but she let her gaze drop, spoke to her lap instead of her face. “Ever since I was a girl, I’d longed for motherhood. Most people never expected it of me. Those who knew me wouldn’t have described me as the nurturing type, and they wouldn’t have been wrong to do so. I spent so many years wanting. It made me angry, how much I desired, how much I had to fight for every piece of it. The ability to make decisions for myself. Independence and strength. An education. I wanted it all, and I wanted a child of my own. A legacy.

“When I got pregnant,” she continued, “I thought I would finally get to stop fighting. Sig and I, we’d spent so much time trying. I’ve heard some describe motherhood as a gift or a miracle, but to me, it felt like a victory. A battle I’d finally won.” Her tone softened when she said, “I made the mistake so many do when their mind is clouded with arrogance. I celebrated too early.”

A part of her didn’t want to hear what came next. Listening to this story was like witnessing a car crash and knowing you didn’t have the time to avoid the collision. There were only two options: watch it happen, or close your eyes. Either way, the end was inevitable. The only difference would be whether to spare yourself the added pain, to become blind to the indisputable evidence laid out in front of you. 

Weaker men often chose to hide. In the collision moments, plenty of strong men did, too. But she’d never been the type to look away when faced with the incoming hurt; she wasn’t going to start now. So she said nothing, showed nothing. She simply waited for Izumi to find her way to the conclusion.

After a moment of hesitation, she did. “Our baby never cried. Never made so much as a sound.”

Every puzzle piece clicking into place only made her regret asking. When the Elric brothers told her about their mother, they’d done so mostly out of necessity. It was all connected — their action, their bodies, their shared enemy. It pained them, obviously, but she hadn’t realized how much of that pain had been clouded by the looming danger. They’d told her, but not like this. Nothing like this.

Izumi stared right through her, like she wasn’t even there. “Silence had never felt so sharp. So present. It was like it was making fun of me, drowning out all my claims of strength by reminding me just how little I could control. Even now, in the quiet, I still hear it. The mockery. It drove me to lengths I never thought I’d go, carried me past lines I never thought I’d cross.” She tried to laugh, but it never stood a chance. Nothing about this was funny. “You can fill in the blanks of what happened next.”

Olivier waited for more; when it became clear there was none, she began searching for words of her own. She wondered, for a moment, whether now would be the time to channel Alex, to speak the way he might. But his words would sound fake coming from her. Even if they were the right ones. 

In the end, she settled for sincerity. “Boy or girl?”

Izumi blinked, and Olivier watched as her eyes refocused. She could hear the joy hidden in her response. It was buried underneath the hurt, just barely poking through the rubble, but it was still there when she smiled and said, “Girl.”

She nodded. There wasn’t much else to do. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I.”

Silence slipped back in. Olivier thought about her words, about the noiselessness. She’d never been one to relax in the quiet. Any good soldier knew that the most dangerous of enemies hardly made a sound, but right now it felt almost tangible. The weight of it grew with every passing second. Loss was heavier than any object she’d come across, and while she was no stranger to it herself, this pain Izumi described felt harsher than any she’d ever experienced. 

As the seconds passed, she felt a restlessness unrelated to her physical incapacitation. Uncertainty crept up on her, and in its presence she found her thoughts from yesterday’s battle, the observations that now felt increasingly relevant.

“Well,” she told her, “If it’s a legacy you want, I’d argue you’ve already got one.”

“What do you mean?”

“You taught the Elric brothers. Their success is your success. And right now, they have a significant share of it.”

Izumi shook her head. “It’s not the same.”

“I know. But it’s close, is it not?” Izumi hesitated, before nodding. Olivier shrugged and said, “Maybe one day close will be enough.”

She spoke with more confidence than she felt. An old habit from childhood, when she’d learned that faith in oneself could be manufactured, that pretending to have it could make it appear. She may not have her brother’s alchemic strength, but in her mind she’d discovered her own kind of magic, one that had yet to let her down.

“You know,” Izumi said after a moment. “I don’t think you were honest with me earlier.”

Olivier frowned at the accusation. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You told me I wouldn’t find comfort here, when in fact, I think you may have told me everything I needed to hear.”

She had to bite back the smile that threatened to make an appearance. “If you ever tire of the warmth, I could use someone like you up North.” Olivier knew the suggestion was nothing more than a courtesy, but she meant it. A spirit like Izumi’s was hard to teach — often, it had to be found. And she’d never found anyone quite like her. 

“I appreciate the offer, but my life is here. I’m not ready to give that up just yet. Although,” she said with a grin that could only be described as mischievous, “I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy fighting alongside you and your brother.”

She couldn’t help but match her expression. “You should see me fight up North.”

“A spectacular sight, I’m sure. Though I don’t think you’ll be fighting any battles in the near future.”

“I wouldn’t rule the possibility out just yet. Reconstruction is no simple task, and there’s a lot of idiots still hanging around in the military. And that’s not including the ones on _our_ side.” 

She groaned at the prospect, at her own reminder of what frustrations lay ahead. Just the thought of having to work alongside Mustang during this incoming period of transition was enough to bring her headache back. 

Izumi laughed. “I don’t envy you and your companions for the job ahead of you. The complexities of bureaucracy were never of much interest to me.”

“A necessary evil, I suppose, albeit an annoying one. Governing would be so much simpler if we disregarded the absurd level of formality and politeness demanded by those in charge.”

“The perk of teaching the Elrics on my own — I never had to adhere to such ridiculous standards.”

Izumi looked so much calmer, so much happier, that Olivier almost didn’t ask. But curiosity and boredom formed a crossroad with opportunity, and holding her tongue proved to be much more difficult than she’d expected. “Will you continue teaching?” She asked. “Now that your ailment is healed, that is.”

She hesitated, and for a moment Olivier longed to take back the question. “Maybe,” she finally said. “The future isn’t as clear as it once was.”

“I suppose that’s the beauty of it.”

“Yes,” Izumi said. “I suppose it is.”

Unconsciousness tugged at her brain. Olivier tried her best to resist it. There was work to be done, after all. Their revolution didn’t have the luxury of idle time — there was a country to rebuild, and she would be crucial to its second life. Yet, lying there, conversation dwindling back into the comfort of silence, she found it hard to stay awake. The weight on her eyes wasn’t just from the pain, or the medication, or the head injury; she found herself at ease here. It was a feeling she often avoided in the North, and one she certainly hadn’t known in Central City for quite some time. 

Izumi noticed, which didn’t surprise her. “I should let you rest. When you wake again, I suspect responsibilities will be waiting for you.”

“Before you go,” she said, “I wanted to thank you. You saved my life, and my brother’s. That’s not an act I take lightly. I owe you a debt I may never be able to repay.”

She smiled, but this time it was softer, lacking the bite and mischief of the one she’d worn earlier. “Fix this country, and we’ll call it even.”

Olivier couldn’t hide a groan as she put her remaining energy into lifting her free arm, extending her hand out as best she could. 

Izumi looked at it, before laughing. “Guess even you aren’t immune to the military’s ridiculous formalities. Is a vow in words not enough? We need to shake on it?”

“It’s—“ she held her breath, gave herself two seconds to let the pain subside, before continuing, “—not about the military.”

Recognition came over the other woman quickly. Olivier wondered how she remembered the moment, her own disappearance. How it might have felt. Part of her longed to ask about it, but so much had been given to her today — it felt insensitive to want more. Not to mention it wasn’t answers she needed: it was confirmation. Indisputable proof of her own that, despite her own failure, she’d truly come back. 

Izumi didn’t take her hand; instead, she kept her eyes on it, like it might disappear if she looked away. “I hope you know there was nothing you could have done to prevent that.”

“Had we not needed your help, then—“

“Then I would have been taken somewhere else, and my husband would have been left stranded on the street instead of in your company. Trust me when I say that sticking with you was the best thing we could have done.”

Olivier closed her eyes. The pain still lingered, her outstretched hand dropping slightly with each passing second. She wasn’t one to dwell often, and the logical part of her understood that few people could stand up to alchemy as advanced as what she saw yesterday. But none of that changed what she knew to be true.

She opened her eyes, waited to speak until she caught Izumi’s gaze. “Regardless of the circumstance, you saved me. And I couldn’t save you. For that, you have my sincerest apologies.”

Izumi finally took her hand. Olivier forced her mind to pay attention, to commit this moment to memory, because she knew in the coming nights, when she saw her failures again and again, she’d need it. She’d need to remember. 

A handshake could tell her more about a person than any words they might say. It spoke not only to their character, but also to their perception of her. Yesterday, Izumi’s grip had been firm, communicating mutual respect and self confidence. It was looser this time around, more delicate, but Olivier could tell the change wasn’t an insult or an indication of weakness — it was a sign of care. Thoughtfulness, the type only found in nurturers, given to her in perhaps the only way she’d accept it.

“My husband said you refused to stop searching for me.” She spoke softly, kept their hands clasped together. “I appreciate that.”

“Of course. I’m not in the business of leaving my people behind.”

The grin spread quickly, until it took over Izumi’s entire face. “I’m your people, huh?”

Olivier tried to humor her, but sincerity won in the end. She wasn’t entirely sure when it happened. During the battle, maybe, or the conversation on the stairs afterward. Maybe it didn’t happen until today, until she’d woken up and found her sitting by her side. Either way, the truth couldn’t be denied: Izumi was one of hers now. Not a soldier under her command, but a companion she knew she could trust. And that meant there was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep her safe.

“Yes,” she told her. “You are.”

“Do I get a say in this grouping?”

Olivier raised an eyebrow at her. “Would you object to it if you did?”

The standoff only lasted a few seconds before Izumi burst out into laughter, finally breaking their handshake to wrap her arms around her sides. She tried not to focus on how deeply she felt her absence, how cold her palm became without Izumi’s hand to keep it company.

“No,” she said lightly. “No objections here. Although if I’m really part of your group now, I wouldn’t mind a chance to test out that sword of yours.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she fought a grin of her own. “Don’t push it.”

Izumi just kept laughing. She wasn’t prepared to like the sound so much, to feel it echoing in her chest. To feel the desire to join her. A sound like that, after the battle they just had, wasn’t so easily conjured. It took strength to find joy after trauma, to stare death in the eye and laugh, not at it but in spite of it. And for someone like Izumi, with so much heartbreak and hurt in her history, to stand here and revel in it? It was impressive, as much as any display of alchemy or strength in battle. Olivier just stared and tried to resist a smile of her own. Each minute with her revealed a new layer, and she could hardly fight the urge to uncover her completely. 

“I’m just saying,” Izumi said, “how else am I supposed to fight off all the military assholes who’ll try to wake you up with their paperwork and other useless bullshit?”

“I think you’d manage just fine without it.” Five seconds passed between them before the rest of her sentence clicked. “What would you still be doing here, anyway?”

Izumi scoffed. “I’m not just gonna leave you by yourself.”

“But I’ll be asleep.”

“Yes. And I’ll be here. Doing exactly what I was doing before you woke up earlier today.”

She should have left it alone, but whatever shame she’d had disappeared the moment she’d heard about the fainting incident, so there really was no point in trying to resist curiosity anymore. “Why?” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never stayed in someone’s hospital room before. As a general, I imagine it’s something you’re quite familiar with.”

“No, it’s not that — why _me_?”

Izumi stared at her, wearing an expression that managed to combine amusement with confusion. “You really don’t get it, do you? If I’m your people, then you’re mine. And I don’t leave my people alone when they’re hurt. Conscious or otherwise.”

She didn’t know how to explain it. The way it made her feel. Like the sun was shining from inside her, spreading its light through her veins until warmth was the only thing her body knew. She wasn’t one for humility, but she genuinely wondered what she’d done to deserve it, this kindness that felt entirely unearned. Whatever the reason, she decided then and there that she’d fight to hold onto it, no matter the cost. 

“Very well.” The words came out softer than she intended. She forced herself to swallow the emotion back before she added, “But don’t avoid seeing the Elrics on my account. I imagine they’ll need you more than I will.”

Izumi waved her off. “Al will be in here for quite a while, I imagine. And Ed — well, I suspect he’ll be desperate for some time alone with his brother. The last thing they’ll want is my hovering.” 

“You don’t hover,” she said without meaning to. 

Izumi just smiled. She did that a lot, she’d noticed, and Olivier didn’t know how each one managed to convey something different. Amusement, joy, borderline impertinence, all finding their way into what should have been a simple expression. Maybe it was Izumi’s own kind of magic. Maybe they shared more than she thought. 

“You know,” she said, “it’s okay to put yourself first once and a while.”

“Maybe next time,” Olivier lied. 

Izumi shook her head as she looked back at the book in her lap. Part of her wanted to grab her attention again, to keep whatever this was going, but her eyes grew heavy again with sleep, and she could only hold it off for so long. She caved as she finally closed them. Silence slipped back in, broken only by the slight hum from the turning of pages. 

Sleep, the restful kind, had evaded her for the past few months. Even before this war and its revelations, it had always been a luxury she couldn’t afford, a risk she refused to take. But now, accompanied by the quiet presence of the woman sitting next to her, it knocked at her door. And for the first time in as long as she could remember, she let it in, without fear or hesitation.

**Author's Note:**

> there's a chance i go back and write the third part of this series that i lowkey began to plan but motivation has been lacking with that one so no promises it actually happens. 
> 
> kudos and comments make my day but also you can come yell at me about these two if you want on tumblr @ thanks--for--listening. also sorry for being like a decade late to this show but whatever im here now lol.


End file.
